


Who Tells Your Story

by jamiesfreckles



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Dragon Quest XI Act II, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hero | Luminary is Named Eleven | El (Dragon Quest XI), Selectively Mute Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21538792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiesfreckles/pseuds/jamiesfreckles
Summary: More often than not, Jade had been the one to visit Dundrasil, to dance around the vast castle full of happy, heavily-accented people that chuckled fondly at her antics and fed her honey-cakes when nobody was looking.But sometimes, Lady Eleanor came here to Heliodor, and she would sit with Jade at this very window-seat and read and tell ridiculous jokes.
Relationships: Hero | Luminary & Marutina | Jade (Dragon Quest XI), Marutina | Jade/Sena | Serena
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Who Tells Your Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LunarExo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarExo/gifts).



> Very much inspired by the prompt in the google doc in the Soldiers of Smile Discord, which was: Jade tells Eleven stories about his mother. I’m not sure about the protocol, but I hope it was okay to write and post this. Please consider this your story if you like, prompter! <3
> 
> Title from Hamilton. In case it wasn’t clear, this is based in some sort of AU where Eleven doesn’t go through with Act III. 
> 
> Enjoy! <3

The plush velvet seat was undisturbed. A thick quilt of dust hugged every fibre. It ran the length of the window, dotted with threadbare cushions; there was a book tucked underneath one of them, out of sight and untouched for years. 

Jade took a deep breath. The maids had cleaned her room recently, airing it out and rushing through with bowls of rose-water and lavender petals to get rid of the stagnant stench of grief and decay. But she had been dead in their minds for years, and the Shadowy monster that lurked in her father for all that time had let her room rot. It would take more than a few petals to make her room presentable again. 

With a gentle tug, the book came free. Dust fell to the floor, catching the attention of the sunlight drifting in through the window. She turned the book over, drinking in the cover hungrily. It was faded, just like everything else in this room—just like Jade, in a sense. She felt faded here. Like a watermark on parchment that used to stand for something. 

She remembered a time when she would kneel on this seat, staring eagerly out of the window as she awaited the arrival of Lady Eleanor. Trips between the two Kingdoms didn't happen as often as she liked, but when they did, Jade couldn’t be pried away from the view of Heliodor. She would sit and read, her hair plaited back away from her face, and glance out of the window every five seconds to search for violet cloaks and glimmering crowns. 

“Jade? Is everything alright?”

She turned, half-caught in her past, and the hazy vision of her younger self faded into sunlight. Serena stood in the doorway, her white wisps of hair falling to her chin. Her gentle smile set Jade to rights. 

“Everything’s fine,” Jade assured her, clearing her throat. “I was… taking in the view, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it properly.”

Serena joined her at the window, her careful footsteps echoing off the pale pink walls. The book felt like a brick in Jade’s hands, a heavy weight that Serena eased from her too-tight grip. 

“This was important to you,” Serena said. “It’s…”

“Lady Eleanor gave it to me,” Jade explained, her voice softening. “She would read to me when I visited. All sorts of books—not just books about ruling, or how to be a princess, like the ones father pressed on me. She would sit with me at breakfast or at the window, and we would read fairy-tales and stories about chosen ones. Stories about little folk and magical curses.”

Serena opened the book gently, spilling more dust into the air. The spine creaked, and so she paused halfway, the pages only partially cracked. 

“Stories were for our visits, for her to read to me in person,” Jade continued. “But when I went home, she would give me other things to read. Books about buildings and plants and medicine, and studies on fist-fighting, and small books that taught me to clear my mind, to believe the best in me. That was the last book she gave me.”

Serena closed the book again, ever so gently, and smiled. “You must have built up quite the little library. She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

Lady Eleanor’s kind smile flitted through Jade’s mind like smoke. She brushed away the grief that gripped her, though it was never as easy as that. But it was not as crippling now, as it had been then, to move past it. 

“You know, I never imagined your room to look like this, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Serena placed the book very carefully back on the window seat, amidst the patchy sunlight. “You are a princess, after all.”

She was referring to the extravagance of the decor, though in Jade’s mind—and most of the maid’s minds too—it was hardly worth a few coin anymore. But then, Serena wasn’t to know that.

Arboria had been far more plain than Jade expected. She supposed it wasn’t odd for such a holy place to revel in simplicity, but something about Serena’s almost-empty room rubbed her the wrong way. But then again, the only thing about Arboria that didn't rub her the wrong way was Serena. 

The unintended thought brought a blush to her cheeks, subtle but there. 

“It needs more plants,” Serena decided, glancing at the shelves full of old toys. “More life, don't you think?”

Her hand curled in Jade’s, her smooth palm cool and welcoming against Jade’s firm skin. She smiled, ducking her head, and held Serena in turn. 

“I think you might be right.”

*

Eleven was skulking in the hallway. It was almost impossible for him to truly skulk, not when he wore glossy clothes in bright colours, and was stared at wherever he went. These days, though, he could often be found lurking in the shaded parts of the castle, lost in thought. Jade rearranged her dress, swallowing the last of her jam-laden toast and brushing the crumbs from her hands as she strolled up the corridor. She had left Serena in her room, but either she was still sleeping or she had gone out since, because Eleven’s hesitant knocks went unheeded.

“Hello, you.”

Eleven turned in surprise, his hand jerking to his belt. But before he even laid a finger on his sword, his expression relaxed, and he dropped his hand with a sheepish smile. 

_‘I thought you were inside.’_

“I went to get breakfast.” Jade linked her elbow through his and lead her into her bedroom, where the bed lay empty and the top window had been pushed open to let in the morning air. “Have you eaten?”

Eleven shook his head, but didn't offer anything further. It wasn’t surprising, though it was disappointing. The fight with Mordegon had taken a lot out of them, and the revelation at the Tower of Lost Time had siphoned the last of their energy. Jade was much better, but Eleven still didn't have much of an appetite these days. 

He seemed content to stare around her bedroom, taking in the wallpaper that was greying at the edges. She didn't press him for answers or explanations, happy enough with his company. Eventually, he drifted towards the old toy castle that filled a corner of the room. 

_‘Having a real castle isn’t enough for you?’_

Jade elbowed him lightly, watching him dart away with a laugh. “I was four, and it was a gift. I haven’t the heart to get rid of it, but it seems silly to keep it here. I don't suppose you know anyone that might want it?”

It wasn’t a question that she expected an answer to, not really, so she was surprised when Eleven’s eyes lit up. 

_‘C-O-N-N-I-E.’_

“The little girl that you told me about, the one from Hotto?” Jade hummed curiously. “You think so?”

Eleven nodded, brushing his fingertips over the pale turrets. _‘She turned up at home last week, with N-O-A-H in tow.’_

Jade smiled. His little sign for home, she knew, meant Cobblestone, where many people had been gathering since the darkness ended. Its’ reputation as the Last Bastion prreceded it, and now the village was full of knights and soldiers and people without homes, all looking to build new ones.

“Then I’d be glad to hand it over,” Jade said. “Do let me know if you need anything more, won’t you? Father’s offered all of our services, but if there’s anything more specific, please come to me. I should like to help.”

The fond, softly-grateful look she received in return was so startlingly familiar that Jade stuttered on her next breath. She stared for a beat. 

_‘What?’_ Eleven tipped his head to the side, rubbing briefly at his cheek. _‘Did I miss some soap?’_

Jade pulled herself out of a memory of kind eyes and long hair, and into the present, smiling shakily as she said, “No, you’re fine. As am I. You just reminded me of something there, for a moment.”

Someone, more like. So many had commented on Eleven’s similarity to his father, but the truth was: there was so much of his mother in his eyes, that sometimes it was almost like she was still here. 

*

Heliodor was an open wound. The castle corridors were blocked with rubble, though the areas that remained untouched by chaos during Jasper’s reign had been swept clean. Despite the presence of one of the Spectral Sentinels in the very halls of the castle, it was the rest of Heliodor that had suffered the most. 

Jade went out onto the streets every morning, flanked by Serena and Eleven, and did what she could. They could have used Hendrik’s stoic help and useful muscles, but he remained steadfast in his decision to repair Cobblestone, so Jade took up the position of shouting orders and directing people across scaffolding. 

She took note of stock and mixed cement when it was necessary. She supervised Eleven and Serena when they slipped from being helpful, competent adults into children that giggled as they flicked paint at each other. She spoke in soft tones to women repairing their houses and visited the church and played games with children in the square. 

Heliodor was still an open wound, but she was determined to see it heal. 

“You’re awfully good at that,” Serena said, when Jade finished telling a tale about grumpy grublins to a chorus of gathered children, near the fountain. “I rather liked the voice you did for the friendly Tricky Devil. Didn't you, Eleven?”

Eleven nodded, his eyes shining. _‘I had no idea you could sound like that. Like you weren’t brooding.’_

Jade made a lunging motion towards him, a hint of a smile pasted on her face, and was not surprised to see him sprint backwards into a herd of kids. They congregated at his heels and demanded tales from the Luminary, who looked, all of a sudden, like he couldn’t think of anything worse than existing in this very moment. 

“I do wish we had a way to preserve this scene,” Jade murmured, wrapping one arm around the slim curve of Serena’s waist. “I can think of at least three people who’d like to see it.”

El fell to one knee when tugged, crumpling under their demand for stories. 

“One very blue person in particular,” Serena agreed, with a stifled giggle. “Oh dear. We should probably rescue him, shouldn’t we?”

Mindful of the guards that lingered nearby, Jade pressed a chaste kiss to Serena’s shoulder, where her dress swooped low. She shivered under the light touch, and Jade smiled, her mouth moving briefly against Serena’s skin. Then she withdrew, throwing Serena a careless smirk. 

“Our duty to the Luminary is never over.”

For the first time in her life, Serena looked highly like she wanted to disagree.

*

The window seat was occupied when Jade came back from dinner.

Serena had gone to Arboria that afternoon, and would be back in a fortnight’s time. Far too long, if you asked Jade. She dreaded the long days and the even longer nights, and the thought of the empty room waiting for her kept her up later than usual. But when she did finally push open the door to her rooms, a steaming cup of tea in one hand and half a biscuit in the other, there was a figure sitting on the window seat. 

“Serena?” Jade called, stilling in the doorway. “Is that you?”

Eleven startled awake, a small groan escaping his lips as his stiff neck made itself known. 

The muscles in Jade’s shoulders relaxed, and she sighed heavily. 

“You almost gave me a fright,” she chided him, but her voice was too warm to be truly reprimanding. “You weren’t at dinner. Are you… Eleven?”

His head was bowed, and his shoulders were shaking. Concern tugged at her gut. Jade let the door slip shut, striding forward in alarm. The cup of tea trembled in her grip until she put it aside on the nearest ottamen, abandoning her biscuit there too as she knelt at El’s side. 

She caught a flash of his face in the light through the window, and her heart dropped.

“You’re crying,” Jade said, surprised. “El, please. Look at me.”

Eleven raised his head to look at her. Moonlight bathed his face, illuminating the tears on his cheeks and the sorrow that had taken root in her eyes. 

_‘I fell asleep here,’_ Eleven signed, with a shaky sob. _‘I think I dreamed of you. You and a woman. You were reading a book about spirits.’_

Jade’s stomach clenched tightly, like a fist drawn back and aimed at a friendly face. It made her sick to think about it, but the memory came easily enough. 

More often than not, Jade had been the one to visit Dundrasil, to dance around the vast castle full of happy, heavily-accented people that chuckled fondly at her antics and fed her honey-cakes when nobody was looking. But sometimes, Lady Eleanor came here to Heliodor, and she would sit with Jade at this very window-seat and read and tell ridiculous jokes. 

The book about spirits still sat in Jade’s beside drawer, buried beneath Erik’s letters and Sylv’s glass trinkets that he won in the casino and sent to her each week. Beside it was a pair of reading glasses that looked adorable on Serena’s nose, and underneath it was one faded portrait that she could barely bare to look at. Her mother, though not by blood. 

Spirits were a tough subject around Eleven. Ever since they came away from the Tower of Lost Time, ever since they stepped back from the Time Sphere and pleaded with him not to shatter it, not to leave, Eleven had wandered around in a daze, and they were careful not to bring it up. 

Bringing him to Heliodor had been Erik’s idea. 

“I’m afraid to leave him like this, but I promised Mia a trip around the world,” Erik had said, a few days before he left. “I think he might be better off at home, around people he can help without feeling like he’s… not doing enough, you know?”

Erik had, loathe as Jade was to admit it, been right. 

It was nice, now, not to see him looking so fragile. Rebuilding Heliodor was a good way to keep his mind off harsher things, regrets he may have had. So long as there was no mention of spirits, Eleven’s spirits stayed up. 

But she knew that this dream, and the tears that followed it, had nothing to do with spirits, lost or in books or otherwise. 

“She liked limericks,” Jade said, all of a sudden. 

Eleven fell still, his trembling hands twisting in his lap until they resembled stone vines, wrapped around each other. 

“She would make them up on the spot,” Jade carried on, her hushed voice tumbling out ungracefully. “Sometimes they were terrible, which only made us laugh more, but usually they were good. She was quite creative, your mother.”

Easing herself up off the floor, she sat down on the plush, velvet window-seat and drew in a deep breath. 

“We would sit here, together,” Jade said, running one finger over a scratch on the velvet seat. “Like the two of us are now.”

Eleven pulled his feet up after a moment of hesitation. Then he tucked them up underneath him, and reached out to pass Jade her cup of tea. There were still tears on his face, but there were some on Jade’s too, and it didn't matter. 

“The book you dreamed of… I have it here. I can show you in the morning, if you like.” 

There were no spirits of lost time in that book. It was the last book that Lady Eleanor ever gave her, and there were no spirits of lost time in the pages. That had to mean something. 

Eleven shook his head slowly. _‘No.’_

“No?” It surprised Jade, enough that it must have shown on her face. 

Eleven shook his head again, swiping at his tears. _‘Death is different at home.’_

“How so?”

_‘When my Grandfather died, he died in bed, surrounded by the village. We cried, but we sang songs and told jokes until the very end. He died holding m-u-m-s hand, and laughing quietly until he fell asleep.’_

That was a quaint notion. To die with loved ones all around you, to have lived a long and happy life—enough so that you would still be laughing, right up until the very end. 

Perhaps quaint wasn’t the right word. Impossible suited the idea a little better. Impossible, but glorious, if Jade was honest. 

“That does sound different,” Jade said quietly. “But I don't see what it has to do with the book.”

Eleven sat up a little straighter, and this time she could see the light of the Luminary in his eyes. _‘At home, we share our grief, but things are more private out here. I’ve noticed.’_

Jade inclined her head, agreeing, though she had never really thought about it before. Then she nearly spilled her tea with his next words, signed steady and quick in the air. 

_‘You can keep your grief, Jade. I don't want to steal it. I can help you bear it, if you need me to, but I won’t take the pieces that are yours and yours alone. You knew her better than I did. I don't need the bits she left you. She left those just for you.’_

Jade swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Eleven…” 

_‘But maybe you could tell me stories about her, the way she told you stories,’_ Eleven suggested, his uncertainty evident in his slow fingerspelling. 

Jade closed her eyes briefly. If she let it all go, she could hear Lady Eleanor’s soft, laughing voice as she weaved a story into reality, bringing characters to life. 

Eleven touched her wrist, holding on gently. Jade opened her eyes to see his curious, fond gaze and all the kindness that lived there. It was no longer surprising, how much he looked like his mother; it was impossible to look at him without seeing her family, after all. 

“Once, she played a trick on the entire kitchen staff, and your grandfather laughed about it for three weeks,” Jade said, smiling when Eleven’s face lit up with a wistful sort of joy. “It involved an awful lot of jelly, and several very realistic Platypunk figurines…”

If she let it all go, she could hear Lady Eleanor’s soft, laughing voice as she weaved a story into reality, bringing characters to life. But if Jade held on, then perhaps between them, they could bring Lady Eleanor to life too. If only for an evening, if only in this seat by the window, where all three of them could take in the view.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it all the way down here! I hope you enjoyed, please feel free to say hello! <3


End file.
